


When Lysander realised Mistral was burning

by tallifer



Category: Shadow of Israphel - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: And Mrs.Miggles found her cat, Gen, Jasper is gay, Lysander is smart, M/M, Missing Scene, Mistral City, SOI fanfic? In my 2020? It's more likely than you think, Shadow of Israphel Setting (Yogscast), SoI - Freeform, Xephos Honeydew and Peculier are mentioned but not present, that's it really, yogscast - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26413978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallifer/pseuds/tallifer
Summary: Lysander was trying to ignore how bad the fire had become. He was doing a bad job of it. He was certain, positive that when the others came up from the mine they would all be able to do something more substantial, and so the burning city was really only a short term problem. Yes, when reinforcements arrived all would be well. In the meantime he was standing outside the wreckage of Jasper’s burning home, and his throat was starting to feel scratchy.“Jasper!” he yelled. “Jasper you bastard, you better not make me climb up your four flights of bloody stairs just to find a queer-looking corpse!”
Relationships: Skylord Jasper/Skylord Lysander (Yogscast)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	When Lysander realised Mistral was burning

Mistral was burning.

Lysander had parted with the Heroes and Peculier only a half hour prior, returning to the Elysium for a brief moment of solitude whilst he awaited their return. They would be fine, he was certain. The mine had been closed for decades and it’s only entrance had remained sealed; no-one would be waiting for them down there. Monsters, certainly, and perhaps an old miner’s trap if they were unfortunate, but he knew they would be fine. They had all been through worse.

After watching them step into the darkness (and goodness, it was dark down there wasn’t it?) he had taken a measured breath, and begun walking back home. Lysander had taken pleasure in listening to the ambience of the city- the still water by the wheat farm, the distant buzz of animals, the milling scent of food from Granny’s bakery- and smiled shyly to himself. It was good to be back in Mistral. The continuous threat of Israphel sat heavy in all that he did, and if anything it made him even prouder of his home; it had survived one apocalypse. It could survive one more.  
He arrived at the Elysium, climbed up his stairs and flopped lazily onto his bed; he had not slept on it for far too long. Lysander managed barely thirty minutes of blissful half-sleep before he smelled the smoke.

His eyes flew open as he moved from the bed and rushed to his window to scan the city. A yell rang out as he noticed the grey clouds rising from the Log Cutters. No, from the Smithy. No, the Log Cutters, and the Smithy. And the Church. The city was quickly becoming ablaze.

 _Damn,_ thought Lysander as he haphazardly tied a rag around his mouth, pulled his goggles over his eyes and grabbed a bucket and the old sword by his mantle. _Damn damn damn._ He sped out of his house and ran to the fountains in the city center to shakily fill up his pail, catching sight of Father Braeburn standing outside the church as he did.

“Father!” He yelled. “Father, get away from the flames! Lend a Skylord a hand?”

“But, the record…” Father Braeburn replied, anxiously rubbing his hands together. He turned to Lysander. “It’s still inside, I can’t let it burn!”

“The Heroes and I will return for it Father, I assure you, _now please get to safety!”_

“Oh, Lysander, may you be filled with the record’s blessed song. Will you really?”

“Yes! Leave a note if you must so we don’t forget, but please Father,” Lysander coughed as the air around him grew smokey, “the fire is only growing, make it quick. Mistral is magnificent, but she can only last so long.”

The priest nodded, and pulled a scrap of paper from a tiny leather pouch he wore on his waist. He started to scribble furiously and looked for a means to tie the paper down.  
Lysander thought this was rather foolish as of all the things in the city, a piece of paper would _surely_ burn, but he knew to keep the man happy. He simply didn’t suit being distraught.  


Now equipped with a bucket of water, Lysander ran through the streets looking for the townsfolk. He had only heard a handful of yells, so he was assuming that most had fled when they saw the flames (such was town protocol). He really hoped the Heroes and Peculier would get a move on; there was only so much he could manage on his own before _he_ needed saving. A panicked sort of noise rang out from the other side of the graveyard, and Lysander ran through the yard to find old Mrs.Miggles standing timidly by the notice board, a fat tabby cat in a basket over her elbow. Part of the roof from the Smithy had collapsed in front of her and the flames were too big to extinguish. She looked to Lysander in distress.

“Stay right there Mrs.Miggles!” Lysander yelled as he carefully threw the water over the beam. It settled the flames enough for him to step over and pull her away. He began a brisk walk to the back road towards The Skull, pulling off his rag and tying it around her mouth and nose as he did so.

“Oh, thank you Skylord!” she said with great exasperation, “I was just updating my sign- I’ve found Percy, here you see, he’s been missing for a week- and then it all started to get very hot. My senses aren’t what they were, you know. Thank goodness you appeared! Do you know what's happening, love?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. I’m just trying to get everyone out whilst help arrives.” They had reached the road. “Do you know the way to Skull Pass?”

“Oh yes dear, leads to where that Carnival is visiting outside Verigans, doesn’t it? I tried out the water slide myself the other day. Was a lovely bit of fun.”

“Wonderful,” smiled Lysander, who had no clue of any visiting carnivals, “follow the path straight there, then?” She nodded. “I hope to see you on a more pleasant occasion, but right now I must be going back.”

“You be careful, dearie. Make sure your red one isn’t a pile of ashes!” she said spiritedly and began to hobble away.

 _Bollocks,_ thought Lysander, _Jasper._ He delicately tore off part of his tunic to create a simplistic face-mask before running back into the city to see if the bastard was still hanging around.

Lysander was trying to ignore how bad the fire had become. He was doing a bad job of it. He was certain, _positive_ that when the others came up from the mine they would all be able to do something more substantial, and so the burning city was really only a short term problem. Yes, when reinforcements arrived all would be well. In the meantime he was standing outside the wreckage of Jasper’s burning home, and his throat was starting to feel scratchy. 

“Jasper!” he yelled. “Jasper you bastard, you better not make me climb up your four flights of bloody stairs just to find a queer-looking corpse!”

There was no reply. 

_Damn it Jasper,_ he thought, _it would make my life easier if you did burn up, yet here I am. As per usual._

“Right, I’m coming in!” Lysander pulled open the door, which miraculously hadn’t caught alight. He had barely made it a step inside before he felt a hard blow to his head, and his vision turned black.

***  
“Ugh…” Lysander groaned as he groggily regained consciousness. His head ached terribly, as did his wrists and feet. He slowly blinked out his slumber to take in his surroundings and quickly became aware of three things.

One, his hands and feet were both tightly bound with rope.

Two, he was on the floor of an airship.

And three, the bastard himself was piloting.

“Jasper!” Lysander yelled. “Jasper you absolute _pillock, what in Notch’s name is going on?”_

Jasper spun around from the helm of the ship- only a metre or so away from where Lysander lay- and gave the captive Skylord a very unimpressed and snooty look.

“I don’t see any reason why I should answer that, Lysander. You of all people have no room to talk.”

“I’m bloody tied up, you absolute moron. Undo this at once!”

“Don’t yell at me, Skylord, it’s your own fault!”

Lysander did not have time to deal with Jasper’s quirks today. “Jasper,” he began, as calmly and earnestly as he could, “Mistral was burning. I went looking for you and I was attacked, I suppose, and now I’m here. _Please explain why I am here and not in the city.”_

Jasper scoffed. “You can’t lie to me Lysander! Don’t think I didn’t find your little shrine under your living room! Don’t act like you didn’t strike the first match!”

Lysander stared at him in utter confusion. “What in all of Minecraftia are you talking about.”

“Well,” began Jasper, folding his arms and leaning against the side of the ship, “I was talking to the Father about his newly acquired _‘holy record’_ \- don’t think I’m blind to that either!- when the whole fire thing started. And because I’m the kind soul that I am-” it was now Lysander’s turn to scoff, “ _I_ went looking for _you!_ I ran to the Elysium only to find the thing burning to the ground, and I started yelling, _‘Lysander! Lysander, dearest! Lysander, are you there?’_ ” Jasper had begun to act out his little tale with immense vigour and passion, “only to see a little staircase under your rug. And well, didn’t _that_ reveal everything? Little shrine to the demon himself. After all you’ve done, Lysander, I expected better of you.” Jasper said this like a mother scolding a child. 

Lysander stared at him with the bored eyes of a teenager who had heard it all before.

“Jasper,” he said dryly, “there is nothing under my house. I’m a Skylord, not a cultist. I’m not even religious, why would I have any sort of shrine?”

“Because you’re a filthy _liar,_ Lysander! I saw it all with my own eyes!”

Lysander was about to tell him that perhaps he needed to see an eye doctor then, but held the comment back at the sudden sincerity laced in Jasper’s words.

“Did you really see something like that Jasper?”

“Yes!” he cried. “Yes, Lysander! I may be dim but I am not _blind!_ ” He looked pained for a moment. "I wouldn't have dragged you here if I didn't have good reason to."

Lysander held his gaze from the floor and sighed. “I did not burn down Mistral, Jasper. You know I wouldn’t, I could never. I was trying to sleep when it all started, waiting for the others to return.” _Goodness,_ he thought, _the others._ He hoped they were alright. He needed to get back to them as soon as possible, before they fell under the same impression that Jasper was. 

“Jasper, I need to go back.”

“Wrong, actually. You need to be held accountable for your crimes.”

“I don’t _have_ any crimes, you fool. Please, Jasper, take us back to rejoin the others and discover who _actually_ did this wretched thing. _Please._ ”

“Hmm.” said Jasper, turning back to grasp the helm. “I’ve missed the begging.”

Lysander turned pink. “Jasper, our home was just attacked, is now really the time for such-”

“We’re going to the Skylord’s retreat,” Jasper announced loudly. He glanced back to Lysander. “Maybe after some _real_ punishment you’ll begin to accept what you’ve done.”

Lysander sighed and fell onto his back. Why had Notch cursed his life to eternally revolve around such a troublesome man, he wondered for the umpteenth time. He looked up at the white balloon overhead and the fluffy clouds floating past. The air was clear at this height, his throat didn’t feel coarse at all. He wondered how long it had been since he parted ways with Honeydew, Xephos and Peculier. Surely an hour or two, at least. 

_Be okay_ , he thought. _Please be okay, and we will meet again._

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic lol how about it
> 
> Find me @isabel-peculier on tumblr


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